Wicked game
by Freak-show101
Summary: "I didn't doubt you Gaara, it would be stupid of me. You know about the game, yes? What are you going to do about it darling—are you going to be a bad little boy and tell on me like two years ago? Or did you finally learn your lesson and decided to be a pawn in my little game?" She was cruel, she was twisted—but she was everything to him. GaaSaku.
1. Game

**Date:** 2/09/12

**Pairing: **GaaSaku, maybe? Heh.

**Genre:** General/Angst/Romance/Drama

**Status:** Incomplete

**Author's Note: **Hi. I am sorry, really, I am. It's just that, well, I was really, really unsatisfied with the whole story in general, and I decided to rewrite the story. I was not able to capture Sakura's personality, I was not able to deliver her the way I wanted it to. So... I hope you guys would be a little patient with me. Here, I present you the first chapter of Wicked game. Special thanks to my beta-reader, TheCrimsonClarity, for beta-ing for me.

**Caution: **

_Dark, dark, dark, fic. _

* * *

I woke up to the smell of burning pancakes filling my nostrils.

The first thought that came to mind was my foster mother, Tsunade, trying to do something nice again, much to my displeasure. I thought the old woman would've learned from her previous failed attempts; she should've known that it was completely useless—and sadly, it had nothing to do with the pancakes. She was doing this again, because she wanted to 'strengthen our bond_'_—not that we had one to begin with. In all honesty, I would gladly prefer that she wouldn't as it would save both of us a lot of trouble. I was definitely displeased with the gesture that she thought as 'kind' as it was utterly unnecessary.

I sat upright and leaned my back against the wooden bed frame. Lazily, I stretched an arm towards a table beside me and grabbed the crumpled cigarette box. I lit a roll-up, pursing my lips as I dragged a puff, trapping it in my lungs for a moment before exhaling. I didn't bother to do it secretly, as Tsunade sort of knew about my habit—not that she would ever confront me about it, but how couldn't she when my entire room was sheathed with the scent of my bad habits? Tsunade was everything but oblivious.

"I hate this," I heard myself say. Truthfully told, I have no idea what I hated most. Was it my past— my life—perhaps myself? For a long time, I'd been questioning my existence and still, I found myself without an answer. I kept my thoughts mostly to myself, as I never saw the significance in approaching another party for an opinion. Their opinions or thoughts never mattered, only mine ever did—it had always been that way. A familiar ringtone interrupted my thoughts then. I recognized it almost immediately and I had known then that it could only be my_friend_ calling.

I furrowed my eyebrows as I fluttered my eyelids shut. I found my lips twitching upward in a cold smirk, smoothing my eyebrows and opened my eyes. Without hesitation, I pressed the green button and placed it against my ear.

"_Finally, forehead! I thought you'd never pick up the phone. Anyways, I'm like, having a major crisis, 'cause like, you know, Kiba's going to pick me up any minute and I've got nothing to wear! Forehead, I need you_."

I giggled then; a high pitch girly-giggle that made me cringe inwardly but I giggled nonetheless because right not, this was not me; this was the other me who was Ino's best friend. "Pig, you're like, super gorgeous. Whatever you wear suits you. Trust me. Wait—you remember the cute bandaged skirt that you stole from me? Yeah, wear that with the sheer purple top you snatched from Tenten. You'll look smokin', I promise."

It was amusing how the words flowed out of my mouth almost naturally. It was as if I actually meant it—though the part that totally set my heart pumping was the fact that I didn't feel guilty for putting on a façade. A shrill squeal was her response, a _thank you_, before a _see you in schoo_l, and then she hung up.

I tossed my phone to side of the bed. My lips that were smirking before, curled back into a nasty snarl, my happy expression morphed into a disgusted grimace. 'Fucking bitch,' I sneered as I took a long drag of my cigarette, 'Always annoying and chirpy in the morning. Disgusting.'

I do_not_ like Ino.

Actually, I don't like anyone. Not my foster mother—who took me in when no one would, nor Tenten, Hinata, Karin, not anyone—including _myself_. I don't feel remorse when I hurt them; I don't feel guilty for playing them behind their backs; I just… don't feel anything.

Secretly, I wondered if I was even capable of feeling those emotions.

I don't have 'bad' days or 'good' days—it just was. Teachers in school adored me for whatever reason—maybe it was because I was one of the top three students in school. As annoying as studying sounded, I do have a _goal_. I wouldn't call it a dream, because dreams were for _naive_ children desiring something unobtainable; hence, a dream.

I could even go as far as calling my goal an ambition to become a poison specialist, trained under the legendary Tsunade. It was the only reason why I had stayed with her this long. It was only because Tsunade was convenient for me, at least for now; I had access to her private library and all her personal notes which I copied religiously whenever something new popped up.

No one knew what I planned. Of course, not even Tsunade, who blatantly kept a close watch on me. Teachers and friends adored me, obviously, but they adored my _façade_, not_me_. I planned this out ever-so-carefully—after creating a mess at Suna High throughout my freshman year and well into my junior one; I could not allow a slip-up. Now a senior, I transferred to Konoha High few months ago. I brainstormed for two weeks to create a _perfect_ façade—a new personality to add on—and honestly, I enjoyed playing the role of '_Konoha High's sweetheart.'_

I am not crazy.

That was what I strongly believed. Although, it was hard to cling onto that thought desperately when everyone around you treated you as if you were. I was unsure at first; uncertain of my mental state. I tried—oh yes, Sir-ree, I did. I listened to them, playing the role of an obedient child rather well. Little did I know, my naivety would stab me in the back. I don't know why I acted like I did. I don't know why I found it pleasurable to witness their pain, or why I felt thrilled whenever I saw despair in their eyes and the fact that it was my doing that caused all of this; it sent me completely over the edge. Sometimes I feel like I demon, one of whom feeds off their misery.

Sometimes, I wonder who I really was. Was I _kind?_—was I _mean?_—was I ever_genuine_? Once, I tried taking two steps back and trailed back before that night happened; before the pills, the abusive relationships, the pain and betrayal. Before the mental asylum. I found out that I don't really know who I am. Maybe I do—perhaps my brain was just too stubborn to remember.

I am not certain of most things about myself. Although, I do know one thing; my heart had hardened. I hated it, but loved it just the same.

Sometimes, I see myself as a walking contradiction.

I shook off my thoughts and took a glance at the clock. It was three minutes to seven-thirty, and class started at eight forty**-**five. I sighed, stood up and walked toward my private bathroom, a towel over my shoulder.

My routine starts—

-Now.

Fresh out of the shower, I picked out an outfit that I don't like to wear. I put on black stockings—it screamed '_girly_' in so many ways—although, despite myself, I grew to like them, and I reassured myself it was not because they belonged to _Ino._ I matched it with a shirt-dress; a beautiful shade of _g_reen that Karin had bought for me last week, along with the black heels Tenten had lent to me few days ago.

I settled for my usual make-up. I applied concealer, hiding more than pale alabaster skin and eye bags due to endless sleeping. Mascara spreading more than eyelashes. Four coats of eyeliner, smearing and smoldering more than emerald eyes. Dark red chapstick—hiding, yet defining my shriveled lips. I hide it all behind a crafted mask of a beautiful girl, ready for school. I took one last glance at myself and nodded, feeling satisfied at my ability to beautify myself in a second. It's funny how I couldn't almost recognize myself.

I grabbed my private notebook and dumped it into my bag. I made sure not to leave it at the house as it contained most of my private thoughts. If Tsunade were to read this book, oh, things wouldn't be pretty. I had created this illusion for her—I had created this perfect façade, to ensure to her that I am not who I was, and I am planning to keep it that way. I did another check, making sure that my notebook was really in my bag. I couldn't take chances as the costs were risky.

When it was indeed, inside my bag, I walked out of my room and towards the kitchen. I found Tsunade sitting in her seat as usual, reading her medical book as she annotated something down in it. I took a deep breath and sat at my usual seat as well, taking a sip of orange juice and a small bite out of Tsunade's awful pancakes.

I counted the seconds: _one, two, three, four, fi—_

"How are you today, darling?"

I slowly chewed the small piece of _leather_, letting it roll around my tongue before forcing it down my throat and smiled.

"I'm good, just a little tired. I didn't get much sleep last night, honestly. I stayed up all night studying for a test."

Tsunade frowned and I knew the older blonde was concerned for my well-being.

I find this annoying.

"You should take a little break, Sakura. You know stress isn't good for you."

Even though I forbade it, my body betrayed me as I flinched slightly when she mentioned that. Thankfully it went unnoticed by the older blonde. I wasn't dumb; I knew exactly what she was referring to, and suddenly thoughts of doing something rash like flipping the table, or even taking the poor excuse of a pancake and throwing it at Tsunade's face, were absolutely tempting. However, this_Sakura_—this _me_, was not how I was after _that night_. So, I merely restrained myself and nodded, a smile still plastered on my face.

"Have you taken your pills yet?"

I shook my head and Tsunade immediately rose up from her seat and walked towards the refrigerator. She took two small pill containers and placed them in front of me.

"Here, a new pair of pills for you, Sakura." I barely heard Tsunade as I was distracted by the pill containers, glaring hatefully at them. I could feel it. The pills were making a mockery of me.

"Fluoxetine and Haloperidol. This time, Sakura—Sakura, are you there?"

I saw a hand waving right in front of my face. I snapped out of my trance and nodded, my façade showed embarrassment and guilt for not listening to her.

"Sakura, please do not throw them this time."

I gave her a grin as I raised a hand, "Scout's honor." Slowly, I took the pill containers and opened them. I took a pill each and swallowed them, drinking the orange juice afterwards. I inwardly grimaced when Tsunade cast a proud smile at me—or at least—I thought it was a proud smile, from the way her honey-colored eyes gleamed.

A honk interrupted the silence. Sasuke was here.

I immediately stood up; a strong wave of nausea began coursing through me when Tsunade smiled. On the outside, I returned the smile—feigning an emotion I wasn't able to reach, though inwardly, I felt disgusted by it. I couldn't quite point out what I was disgusted by, but the emotion was there nonetheless.

"Ah, Sasuke's here to pick you up. Hurry along then, darling."

I nodded and waved to Tsunade as a form of goodbye before grabbing my things and walking out of the house, quickly closing the door behind me. Bracing myself, I walked towards the sleek black lotus. The passenger door was open as usual. I got in and closed the door, turned towards the driver, and gave him a peck on the lips.

As usual, Sasuke flashed me his infamous smirk. Granted, I had to give the boy a_little_ credit; he was good-looking and all. He had the whole package—the looks, the money, and the fame-he had every last bit of it. I knew nothing of his life though, as he was fairly guarded about the more intricate details. However, I'd heard in the past that both of his parents were killed in a car crash, most likely contributing to his dark and brooding nature, and adding to his mysteriousness.

Most girls would die to snatch a guy like Sasuke. Unfortunately for both of us, he was too predictable—he had become boring by my standards. I feigned a shy smile, resisting the urge to wipe my lips off and reapply my lipstick. I had to act my role today, and that was as 'Sasuke-kun's loving girlfriend.' Although predictable, he was disgusting observant as well, his calculating eyes roaming about and often landing on me.

I _couldn't _take chances.

"What's with the bags under your eyes, beautiful?" I heard him say, to which I shrugged as a response. "Test," I replied nonchalantly, noting the wary glance cast over me, albeit he thought he was being discreet, but I, too, was observant—more so than others, and often used it to my advantage. I knew why Sasuke was suspicious. I never gave him one-word answers, even when I wasn't in the mood.

I couldn't place what was wrong with me today. Perhaps it was because of the pills I had taken earlier, but I couldn't shake the feeling of impending doom looming about. Despite my slip up at Suna High, I was expecting something bad to happen. In truth, I was anticipating everything to come down _crashing_ around me. I knew it would overcome me in waves of emotional turmoil afterwards, but things are quite calm here—too calm for my liking.

We didn't talk after that. I could sense his discomfort; I observed the way his left leg shook anxiously, although he tried to hide it by following the beat of the song playing in the car. I didn't bother to initiate the conversation and gazed out the window.

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It took fifteen minutes to drive from my house to the school.

Sasuke and I exited the car and walked in the direction of our friends, his arm resting on my shoulders as he leaned over to give me a peck on the forehead. Inwardly, I narrowed my eyes at the supposedly 'sweet' gesture. Instead of throwing his arm off, I giggled instead, snuggling closer to him.

I feel like vomiting.

I spotted our usual circle of friends sitting down by the large apple tree. Ino was sitting cross-legged with Kiba, who was resting his head on her lap while Naruto, also cross-legged, sat with a red-faced Hinata on top of him. Meanwhile, Hinata busied herself by plaiting Tenten's hair, Neji leaning onto the brunette's shoulder as he secretly glared at Naruto. Karin was glaring hatefully at Suigetsu, whilst the white-haired boy laughed at her for reasons unknown and—_wait, who is _that_?_

A new face, yet awfully familiar, with shocking red hair, black rings that defined brilliant jade eyes, and I was close enough now to notice a kanji symbol tattooed on the left of his forehead.

The very same symbol that I'd gotten on my lower back two years ago.

I tensed.

The first thought that came to my mind, inevitably, was something to the effect of _'What the fuck is he doing here?!'_ I struggled with discovering what I felt at that moment, but if anything I had been, at the very least, surprised and I hate unpleasant surprises. A wave of emotions that had been carefully sealed away were now bursting in various directions, competing with one another to become main sensation. I still felt conflicted. However, I also felt like laughing for some reason.

Sasuke, noticing my discomfort, turned to me with a concerned look that clearly asked, _'what's wrong?'_ I shook my head with a practiced smile on my lips and put on a bold front as I approached them.

"_Sakura-chan_!"

It seemed that Naruto had noticed us first.

The rest of them looked up then, though I could only feel a certain person's eyes trained on me; more specifically those jade orbs I knew all too well boring holes into my face. I knew it was his gaze by the familiar sensation it gave me. Be it my body or my face, it would tingle whenever those brilliant green eyes washed over me. I contemplated the moment, unsure if I liked the emotions that he brought to the surface of my thoughts.

When we neared the group, I gave each a hug in greeting, whereas Sasuke only nodded to the guys, acknowledging their presence. I turned to Gaara, feigning a smile with my head tilted slightly.

"Who is this, Naruto?"

Naruto grinned. "This is Gaara. He just transferred here today. I saw him sitting here alone a little while ago; he looked lonely so I thought I'd introduce myself. We're friends now—he's just like Neji-prick and Sasuke-bastard, so he doesn't talk much. He was from Suna High, Sakura-chan, just like you. How can you not know him?"

I opened my mouth to retort but failed to do so as someone rudely interrupted me.

"Suna is a big place, Naruto. Even though we were in the same school, it's rather strange how she doesn't recognize me, hmm?"

I smirked inwardly. His voice was husky like I remembered. It held arrogance, sarcasm, and I knew that there was something else behind it—something I missed dearly when I _wrecked _Suna High—when I wrecked _him_, much the same as I planned to do to my _friends _at some point.

I could feel the heat of Sasuke's glare directed towards Gaara, distrust and skepticism radiating through the air. He had doing so for some time now, but for whatever reasons, he chose not to confront me. Maybe he was waiting for me to open up. I almost laughed at the ridiculous notion. Though, if he was, he would likely be waiting another thousand years more. There was no way in hell, or heaven, if such places exist, that I would open up to Sasuke willingly. My relationship with Sasuke was rocky; he was incredulous, and I mysterious, but I prefer it that way. He was too damn smart for his own good. Then again, so was I.

I made it looked like he had the upper hand. I made it look as if he were in control of this relationship—as if he had control over me. With this front, I prefer to pass by under the radar in most circumstances. It would be much easier to act that way, no? I lingered my gaze on Gaara again, and instantly, my blood began pumping with adrenaline. My instincts were right—something bad was going to happen and this was it. I could already picture the stealth, the drama, the tears and the pain. I smiled with glee.

"Why do you have that creepy smile on your face, Forehead?"

My right eye twitched at the nickname, but I feigned another uncomfortable smile while ruffling my pink locks. "Oh, it's nothing! I just can't wait for all of us to become acquainted. Welcome to Konoha high, Gaara. You'll fit right in here!"

I watched as the people around me burst into laughter. Sasuke and Gaara were the only ones who appeared unfazed. It amused me how alike they were. It was downright comical, really; despite the fact that I had been a different person back in Suna High—no matter what personality I chose to go with-my taste in men would always be the same, or similar at least.

"Same as always, aren't you Sakura? You're too sweet for your own good, darling." Karin said, smiling fondly at me, to which I returned the gesture. I felt a pair of arms wrapped around my waist in a possessive manner. I looked up to see my boyfriend glaring at a certain redhead. I tried not to smile. Though I was somewhat anxious before, at the sudden appearance of Gaara, I was already loving it now—so much action within a few hours. I made a mental note to make this scene to happen often.

"Careful there Sakura-chan; I think the bastard is jealous!"

The gang laughed once more, except for the two individuals from before, while I let out a giggle. For once, it was not feigned; the others were laughing at Naruto's comment while I was laughing at the whole scene in general.

The bell rang, and as if on cue, the group stood up as one as we headed to our respective classes. My first class was World History and it was placed on the second floor. So, I bade good-byes to my friends and told a grinning Naruto to hold Sasuke while I ran towards my class, giggling all the while.

In their eyes, I was playing the model girlfriend role, not wanting her boyfriend to be late to class. In my eyes, I was annoyed by Sasuke and wanted my space. Even if he didn't look the part, Sasuke fit the 'clingy boyfriend' role to a T. Getting too close to him wouldn't be good for me in the long run, either. He was already chary enough and I didn't need to add any more fuel to_that_ fire.

I walked to my locker and instantly I felt a familiar presence behind me, a pair of arms snaking my waist, much like how Sasuke had earlier. Thankfully the hallway had been empty. I would've had a lot of explaining to do if someone had seen us. I was known as '_Konoha High's sweetheart' _and '_Sasuke-kun's girlfriend,'_ so if someone were to witness this Sakura in another man's arms, I would be in _deep _shit.

"I know the game you're playing, _Sakura_—don't you dare think otherwise."

His voice was husky, yes. It was husky and it sent chills down my spine. I hated it, but I _loved_ the way he spoke my name. I could feel his fingers t-t-t-tapping on my stomach, creating a rhythm before he slipped them slyly under my shirt, lingering there for a while as he trailed his fingers from my flat stomach to my lower back, stroking the skin where my tattoo was. I knew what he was doing and found it unsurprising; Gaara had always been territorial. He stroked it to make me remember that I was his—that I belonged to him, even if I was with another man.

I felt it again. The adrenaline rush made me giddy, and I realized that it was something I was looking forward to.

I smirked crudely.

"I don't doubt you, _Gaara_. It would be stupid of me. You know about the game, yes? What are you going to do about it, _darling_? Are you going to be a bad little boy and tell on me like you did two years ago? Or did you finally learn your lesson and decide to be a _pawn _in my little game?"

Gaara turned me around and threw my back against the lockers. A loud bang was heard as it echoed down the silent hallways.

He was furious despite his placid expression—time and experience had taught me how to read him. I was largely unfazed at his harsh treatment towards me. In fact, I not only expected it, _I welcomed it_; embraced it, if you will. I knew the game I was playing. It was nothing like testing the waters, nothing like a little child's first try on the swings, because I was playing with fire. It was my forte and my ecstasy. It was the fuel that burned away my boredom and I loved it.

_I am twisted, I am sick, I am cruel—but I love it._

I knew that Gaara was the only one who could through my façade, though he only knew a part of it as I had only revealed a few faces to him; there were many more that I kept in my closet. When Gaara's response was his lips smashing furiously against mine, I knew that he had surrendered himself to me. His submission made me weak in the knees.

I knew then that he was in love with me.

In fact, I knew a lot of things. Only time could tell when I would again use it to my advantage. I could feel that ever familiar adrenaline rush again, and I became extremely _excited_.


	2. Player 1

**Date:** 9/09/12

**Pairing: **GaaSaku, maybe? Heh.

**Genre:** General/Angst/Romance/Drama

**Status:** Incomplete

**Author's Note:** Chapter two. Heh. Special thanks to my beta-reader, TheCrimsonClarity, for beta-ing for me.

**Caution:**

_Dark, dark, dark, fic._

* * *

"Okay, Forehead, tell me, which one should I use? This one—or this?"

I should congratulate myself for refraining from deadpanning at her. Really, I should. I should also congratulate myself for not throwing her a look that says, 'Are you fucking kidding me?' For once, I was really at a loss for words as I stared at the girl across from me before averting my eyes to the nail polishes. It seemed Ino had once more reverted into her ditzy-blonde stage. I suspected she was faking it, alongside the many other suspicions I held towards this girl; it just couldn't be possible to be _that _incredibly stupid, I told myself. Sometimes, I wondered if her mother had thrown her against the wall as an infant. That would've explained a lot of things. I watched as her blue eyes clashed against my emerald ones, hers now narrowed into mere slits.

I realized she was still waiting for my response.

I tried to arrange my face into an expression that showed the blonde I was actually deep in thought. Randomly, I pointed to the nail polish on the right. "I think you should use this one." Ino frowned then; I guess she was actually considering it for a moment before blinking, her lips forming into a smile. To my dismay, she squealed then, crushing me in a tight embrace as her eyes danced with excitement.

"Oh, thank you, Forehead! You have, like, incredible taste!"

I should really get an award for refraining from a lot of things. Instead of throwing a snarky remark, I smiled in somewhat modestly, tucking a strand of pink hair behind my ear. I watched as Ino turned around to face the front, applying the polish on her nails despite the fact that Kurenai had warned her several times to pay attention. Subtly, I laughed to myself. I wouldn't expect any less from her. I dug a hand into my bag and took out my notebook, not bothering to pay attention to Kurenai as I had already read up on the material, a week in advance, of course.

I opened the cover of my notebook and thumbed through the pages idly, turning to a fresh, blank sheet. Taking a pen from my pencil case, I began to write.

**-Thought 213:** **Observation of Ino Yamanaka**

Day 105: I was right; she has reverted back to her previous persona. Now all I have to do is wait patiently. I knew it had to be a façade, that she was using it to hide something. It won't be long until I find out what it was, and I'll use it against her. It'll crush her. If that doesn't work…Ha. We'll see.

**-Thought 214:** So...Gaara transferred today. I still don't know how to feel about that. Sure, I did miss him and all to an extent. He's changed so drastically; he's so beautiful now. Clingy…Needy… Broken… Oh, isn't he wonderful? He drives my desires to insanity and _oh_, he's beautiful. Like a dog, following its master wherever she goes. So loyal, so…So _fucking beautiful_. I need to have a word with him, still. If he has any plans of telling on me…well, I'll just have to break him again. Oh yes, I'll hammer the lesson into his head this time. Sometimes you have to mean to be kind, I guess.

**-Thought 215:** My resources told me that Sasuke's been snooping around. Go ahead. I don't really care; Sasuke won't get very far without solid information. Though, if he manages to grasp his hands on it, I'll have to do something.

I smiled as I closed my notebook. I stuffed it in my bag, folding my arms as I leaned back against the chair with my eyes closed. I began concentrating on my surroundings. To my right, I could hear the obnoxious Karina Kuza, and her accomplice Suka Tsukomori, giggling loudly, bitching about the latest gossip of the school. To my left was Ino, texting furiously to Karin with the subtle beeping noises from her phone.

They said Karin and Ino were inseparable. I'll have to do something about that, won't I? A happy ending _isn't_ my cup of tea, and there are _no_ exceptions.

Right in front of me, I could hear scribbles. Kimi Kunaki, a smart brunette that would always come second behind me, was scribbling ferociously. Notes, I assumed. She had always been jealous since she claimed that_she_ was supposed to be Sasuke's girlfriend, as well as the smartest girl in the school. I crushed her dreams by taking those spots. Not only that—I had taken over her position as president of the newspaper club. Not that she was even a part of the group, but it unintentionally upset her, and I felt no qualms about taking pleasure in it. It was nowhere near satisfying, though.

From behind me, I could feel someone staring. It held such intensity that there was no questioning who that gaze belonged to. That, and the fact that my back was tingling again with the familiar sensation. Smiling smugly to myself with my own eyes still closed, I turned around and opened them ever so slowly to find the person I anticipated. Jade irises bore into my emerald green ones. I knew he was searching for something—_anything_-but I gave him nothing in return. He didn't deserve that much.

I watched as his eyebrows—or lack thereof—scrunched down as a frown quirked his lips. They began to move slowly, emphasizing each syllable.

'_Hy_-_po_-_crite_.'

I found myself amused and arched an eyebrow in response, giving him one of my many cruel smirks. I held up a finger and pointed it to the right side of my forehead, opposite of where his tattoo was placed. I winked discreetly; I made sure that the redhead got what I meant. When his eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, I smirked once more and turned around.

I closed my eyes once more and counted: _one, two, three, four, fi_—

The bell rang.

Laughing inwardly at the predictability of the mundane world in which I lived, I stood up from my seat and proceeded to my next class.

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At the far end of Konoha where the most dangerous crime scenes were located at, right behind the Woodgrove forest, a run-down building stood, surrounded by a multitude of trees. It was hidden very carefully, subtly, so that most of the teenagers that went in search of the building out of curiosity—the building once belonged to a serial killer—got lost inside.

Those who actually found it—a small number of them—went missing and were never found.

A redhead with hypnotizing amber eyes walked now through the same forest, going about his

daily routine while chuckling at nothing in particular. He followed the trail and went in deeper until the trail abruptly stopped. He turned to his right and continued walking, both hands inside his pockets. Nonchalantly, he looked to his right, then his left, making sure that no one saw him. After walking approximately ten minutes, he spotted the building and approached it.

Indifferently, the man opened the door and stepped inside, turning to his left and trotting up a flight of stairs. He turned to his left again, heading in the direction of a specific room and went inside without bothering to knock. He was called in by his leader anyway, so his presence was expected. The room had been painted black and blue—puzzling as it was. He expected it to be black and red; their mark—their colors.

The man nodded to his colleagues and sat down on his chair.

"Finally you made it, Sasori." A blonde man who was seated to his right had said, a grin in place, and roughly slapped his shoulder.

"Where's leader?"

The blonde man shrugged in response and turned to his right then, involving himself in a conversation with a white headed priest. Sasori sighed and ruffled his red locks. He took out his phone from his jean pocket and sent a quick text to a certain rosette before hastily stowing it away once more.

The door opened then as all heads turned to the newcomer and unsurprisingly found it was their leader, walking with such grace about him, head tilted upwards in arrogance. Everyone sat upright then, not wanting to bear the consequences if they didn't show the leader the amount of respect he demanded.

**.**

With piercing ringed eyes, Pein glowered down at his followers. He smirked inwardly at the sight he witnessed. No matter how uncomfortable they felt beneath his gaze, he couldn't help it—he_loved_ feeling powerful.

Satisfied, he took his seat.

"Report."

A black-haired man, with a long ponytail tied behind his back, spoke first.

"Leader," he stated, nodding his head in respect. "The Konoha police force called off the search. It has been twenty-seven days, three hours, and forty-five minutes since the absence of Kimimaro. My uncle was not pleased, but the case is closed."

Pein hid a smirk and regarded the individual with a simple head nod. Although he looked calm on the surface, deep down he was extremely pleased with Itachi, his right-hand man next to Zetsu. Itachi had potential, he agreed inwardly. He had always kept everything under control behind the curtains. The black-haired man knew what he wanted to hear, though Pein was sure Itachi thought that his leader hadn't noticed. He was sure Itachi thought he was being discreet and careful about it. Whenever things got a little out of hand, unlike the rest, Itachi would always try to resolve it himself instead of reporting to him—unless it had actually been serious, of course.

"Also—" Itachi added on nonchalantly, ignoring the curious looks from his colleagues as he stared at his leader's eyes in confidence, secretly looking for a reaction from the orange-haired enigma. "I've finally heard word back from Haruno Sakura."

Itachi took note of the way his leader stiffened, the way a redhead sitting opposite of him tensed, but most amusingly, the way his colleagues froze at the name of a mere eighteen year-old girl. If Itachi hadn't known better, he would have scoffed and dismissed mentioning her, but he _did_ know better; that girl was _very_ capable of creating havoc, and he wasn't near foolish enough to underestimate her.

"She called me yesterday—well, I gave her a call, actually. My ignorant little brother was snooping around as usual..." Itachi trailed on, stalling. "She wasn't happy about it, and I'm sure she's about to do something rash as a result."

Everyone was taken aback when their leader let out a bone-chilling chuckle. It didn't sound happy—not even close. Instead, it was humorless. Pein covered his face with a hand, shoulders still shaking, signifying that he was amused by the comment.

"Rash?" he questioned darkly.

Itachi froze when he looked at his leader. The orange-haired man had his fingers parted. Nothing was visible with the exception of a ringed eye. It was as if he were staring through Itachi's soul.

"Haruno is everything but rash. She's very calculative and precise. I thought you'd have known better, Itachi. We're just players, pawns of her little game. She's got you where she wants you," Pein continued before letting out another chuckle. "Sasori, tell her I want to see her soon. It's been a while." The redhead nodded in acknowledgement. "Alright then. Dismissed."

**.**

Everyone left the room save Pein, who stayed behind to finish off a couple of errands; a few papers needed to be signed and he had to jot down a few plans for the future. Pein also had to prepare himself for his reunion with Haruno. The little girl had grown up now. He had requested a secret mission to Zetsu. The bipolar man had returned with a few pictures of the girl, handed him her files and had much to say. Needless to say, Pein was pleased. The girl had grown up to be a fine young lady; cunning and powerful, and equally twisted. Oh yes, he had been _very_ pleased with the news.

He remembered the first time that she had managed to slip under his radar. At the time, he'd wanted Orochimaru's head, only to find out he was already dead—that someone had actually gotten to the snake-master first instead of him. He demanded Zetsu to investigate, and he was confused by the delay as Zetsu was one of his top men. Typically, it would only take the man a couple of days to dig out information for him, but the mission had nearly taken a month. Pein instantly saw this mysterious person as a real threat—until he had gotten to know that it was all Haruno's doing. He admired the way she'd covered her tracks.

The corners of his lips twitched upwards. He couldn't complain.

She _did_ learn from the best.

In an instant, Pein sensed a familiar presence behind him, not bothering to turn around as he had nothing to fear. The thought of him fearing someone made him want to laugh, but he restrained himself from doing just that—especially in the presence of one of his men.

"Itachi."

He could feel the black-haired male hesitate for a second.

"A question, leader."

Pein continued sorting papers. "If this is about Haruno—don't bother."

The way Itachi stilled confirmed his suspicions. Pein knew he wouldn't try to pry it out of him. He knew the other man was going to snoop around sooner or later. He observed the way Uchiha's hands clenched into tight fists as he accepted the answer with disdain. The crimson-eyed male nodded in acquiescence and turned to leave when Pein stopped him once more.

"It wouldn't be wise to snoop around. You know how Haruno is."

"Do _you_?"

Pein instantly narrowed his eyes at the black-haired man with great intensity. He took a step forward—one, two, three, _four_—before standing right in front of Itachi and peering down at him. Even though Itachi was tall, Pein was still taller than him by a couple of inches. He placed his left hand on shoulder opposite of him, feeling Itachi flinch subtly under his touch.

"Even though I am lenient towards you, Itachi," he started, his gentle touch quickly replaced as the orange-haired man gripped his shoulder with an amount of force and strength normal men couldn't possess. "You will show me respect!"

Itachi winced blatantly, hating himself for it the instant the sound escaped his lips. If he were a lesser man, he would have dropped down to his knees and begged his leader to stop. But he was not a lesser man. He was an Uchiha, and his pride would not allow him to beg, no matter what Pein was capable of reducing him to. So he nodded curtly, knowing his shoulder would be sore later as he remained still in the other man's grasp. He would not-_could_ not-give Pein the satisfaction of seeing him squirm like prey, though he knew the taller male had been satisfied enough by hearing him shudder. He kept his mouth shut; teeth gritted, jaw clenched, all the while resisting against the pain.

It felt like hours, but it had only been a few moments until Pein relinquished his grip, a smug smirk firmly marring his face. He watched as crimson eyes grazed the floor, Itachi bowing his head and muttering a quick apology before departing the room.

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It was lunch time.

I was seated between Sasuke and Karin; my boyfriend was still casting glances at me secretly. I found it annoying—_he_ was annoying. I ignored him and continued talking to Karin about a pop star she idolized—what was her name?_Lady Gaga or_ _something…_And about how purple glitter eyeliner was her prized possession of the week. Ino joined in on the conversation.

"_You're such a copy-whore! Purple glitter eyeliner was mine from the start!_" and an "_Ugh, you wish, bitch."_ I nodded and chose not to say anything after that. Karin and Ino continued bickering and the conversation kept going without me; I left it at that. I didn't bother getting into their fights. After knowing them for a few months, I would rather to not involve myself in their mindless drabble. It would be a waste of energy, not to mention it could very well serve as a way to effectively kill brain cells.

I'd not seen Gaara since our last encounter. Then again, Naruto was missing too, so I assumed that they were hanging out together somewhere; nothing worth getting anxious over. I knew Gaara wouldn't be stupid enough to open his mouth and blab my secret to anyone. He knew better than that. Amid my distracting thoughts, I felt a vibration from my bag.

My eyes narrowed to mere slits.

Who could be calling me at this time? Tsunade was still at work. Despite her morning attempts to tighten our 'bond', she was always too busy to call me during school. I don't _own_ any other 'friends' either—I had my number changed when I transferred here. Who could have—ah! It must have been them, then. I took a glance at my phone and raised an eyebrow, confirming my assumptions.

_Scorpion._

"Who's _that_?"

Shit.

Sasuke…How could I be so careless? I raised my head to meet a pair of smoldering black orbs staring skeptically at me. I smiled and shook my head.

"Oh... No one in particular. Um, excuse me, I-I have to get to the washroom." I stuttered lamely, ashamed of my paper-thin lie. "Catch you later, Sasuke."

I took my bag and fled then, ignoring the curious looks from my friends and their shouts of '_Where are you going, Sakura?' _behind me. I picked up my phone at the last second, barging through the massive crowd of people in the hallway.

"Mistress Haruno... Our leader has requested your presence."

Ah. The Akatsuki's leader. I had forgotten about him for a moment. I didn't reply as I went up a few stairs, smiling at the people who waved and smiled at me. "Yes, mother, I won't be late for dinner today." I spoke to the other person on the line. A fellow classmate—a raven-haired girl with glasses-waved to me and I returned the gesture. I knew her name, but being that she was insignificant, I resolved to call her 'four-eyes' instead.

"What? I don't understand, Mistress Har—"

"—_Quiet!_" I snarled, walking up a few more steps before I reached a door. I opened it and stepped onto the rocky surface of the rooftop. I looked around cautiously and when no one else was in sight, walked forward to the end of the rooftop that was surrounded by metal gates. I took a cigarette that was sealed carefully within my purse and lit it.

I sucked in the smoke and blew it out.

"Speak."

"Leader wants to see you—"

I rolled my eyes in annoyance, biting back my temper. Everyone has been getting on my nerves lately. "I'm well aware of that. Anything else?"

"_No, Mistress Haruno_." I flicked the ash on the ground and took another drag.

"Tell your leader I'll come around seven-ish and not to be late. Tsunade will be back by nine. I have homework to do as well."

"_As you wish_."

I hung up the phone and sat on the rooftop, enjoying the windy weather. I would have to come up with an excuse for Sasuke later and—to be honest, it was really beginning to become bothersome, tip-toeing around the boy. I could handle an apathetic Sasuke, like how he was when he had first met me, but I couldn't stand the clingy Sasuke I now found myself dealing with. I wouldn't mind clingy, broken, needy—like how Gaara had become-though, I doubt Sasuke would be as beautiful as the redhead.

I wondered why.

My thoughts lingered on the redhead. I needed to stop this—the obsession was unhealthy. I couldn't—shouldn't-develop any feelings for Gaara. I reminisced now, remembering why I had left Suna High in the first place, and this was it. Just standing a meter away from him was doing things to my body I wasn't able to comprehend. That was bad—this, whatever this was, was really bad. Sure, I could admit I was infatuated with him. He, like Sasuke, was good looking. He, like Sasuke, was an apathetic fool.

But unlike Sasuke, _Gaara_ was… _addicting_.

I could feel the familiar sensations within my body, writhing and yearning for more. Who knew, just the thought of him would drive my senses mad with want.

Bad was a poor understatement for this situation.


	3. Player 2

**Date:** 15/10/12

**Pairing: **GaaSaku, maybe? Heh.

**Genre:** General/Angst/Romance/Drama

**Status:** Incomplete

**Author's Note:** Chapter three. Many thanks to my lovely beta-reader, TheCrimsonClarity.

**Caution:**

_Dark, dark, dark, fic._

* * *

I threw my finished cigarette in the bushes outside my house. I had to prepare my visit with the Akatsuki's leader—whoever he was. I tried searching for him, but alas, he was as good as I am at covering his trail so… I'd have to wait and see for myself.

I slammed my fist on the table as I let out a low grunt. I had just gotten home from school and was currently busy staring blankly at the hate-provoking pages of my notebook. I let out another growl as nothing came to mind. I closed my eyes and counted to ten, remembering the classes I was forced to take after that night happened. Truth be told, there were times when I came to a deadlock; where my mind stayed blank for a few moments before an idea came stumbling in. My ideas were never pleasant, of course, as I myself had never really adored pleasant ideas.

_Of course, you're a fucking fucktard. _

Frowning, I closed my eyes and slumped down the wall, clutching my notebook tightly to my chest. I didn't know what to do—I knew what I was feeling and didn't like it one bit. I felt very frustrated for some reason and I hated it, among many other things. Sometimes I wished I were normal. Sometimes I wished I were optimistic—sometimes I even wished I could be more honest with myself.

Although, if I had indeed been honest with myself, I would have admitted that I was sick and tired of pretending. As always, I chose not to acknowledge my thoughts. I scoffed at myself for getting so emotional over something so small and insignificant. Who was I kidding—I was no saint and I certainly wasn't a goody-two-shoes.

**Like I said, honey, you're a fucking fucktard. You fucking sadistic whore! Crazy one, aren't you, Sakura? Oh wait, Sakura**—**is that even your name? **

I narrowed my eyes.

It's happening again. The voices—they're talking again. I thought I had done a good job ignoring them the first time. I wasn't surprised; the voices like make their way into my head whenever I let my guard down, now being a particular time of vulnerability-I can't take it for long. Tsunade told me to ignore it—they, the shrinks, told me to ignore it—to not encourage it further by responding, but how could I not when they are so _fucking annoying?!_

**Do you like it, darling? Do you like causing problems to others? Do you, Sakura? **

I clenched my teeth desperately—_shut up shut up shut up_—my grip on my notebook became tighter, and I vaguely realized it was being crushed by my fingers.

_**Answer me!**_

_It's yelling now. Oh god, it's yelling now. What the fuck did Tsunade feed me this morning? Why aren't the fucking pills working? Go away, damn it, go away!_

**I asked you a question, you fucking whore. Do you like causing problems to others, m'dear? Do you like… **_**Wrecking**_** them? Do you, Sakura? Answer me, oh lovely one. I won't disturb you any further if you do. All you have to do is to answer. The. Fucking. Question. **

'_Yes,_' I managed, gripping my notebook even tighter to keep myself from shaking. The wire spirals were mashing against one another.

**Yes… What? Yes to what, exactly? **

'_Yes… I like to… Wreck them,'_ I answered hesitantly.

A pause.

…**Do you enjoy it, Sakura? **

'_I.. Do.' _

Another pause. I waited a few moments and when my mind was at peace, I sighed. The relief was instantaneous, although the familiar feeling of torment remained. I had to stop it; this routine was becoming familiar to me. It seemed almost staged, robotic even, and because no one was there to bear witness, I would humor myself by following it out. I will admit though, it did make me feel at ease, if my current state constituted such a state of relief. I stood up from my miserable position and lit a cigarette, tossing my notebook on the bed. I walked slowly—

**Fucking **_**sick**_**! **

I jumped in surprise.

Shit.

I beg to differ; it's pleasurable that she's pursuing her abilities to cause mayhem. It's good that you're trying to embrace _us_, but still, **you're a fucking sick bitch! **_**Fucking ugly, fucking disgusting, fucking **_die, **you fucking slut! **

I began to shake. It's starting again—it's not a single voice this time, but multiple. It's starting again, and I'm _terrified_. It's starting again, and I don't know what to do. My walk to the toilet broke off into a run, and because I knew Tsunade wasn't there, I looked at myself in the mirror and screamed to my heart's content. I didn't know when the tears came, but they did.

**Boo-hoo. Now you're crying, love? **Crying is a sign of weakness, Sakura._What the hell are you doing, stupid? _**Accept **_**us, **_and we'll leave you _**the fuck**_alone.

Falling—stumbling—flowing down my alabaster skin, I wiped the trails away furiously. I stared at my reflection once again and for some reason I smiled. White teeth with a dash of yellow from all the smoking; I laughed just the same.

**Laughing, crying…You fucking stupid, crazy**—

—_Smack!_

My cheeks stung. It hurt, but it hurt so _good_.

**Not only are you crazy, you're a fucking masochist**—

—_Smack. _

_Smack_.

_Smack. _

_Smack. _

_Smack. _

I slapped my face—once more when it didn't hurt. And again, and again, and again until my cheeks went numb. When the voices were finally silent, I smiled to myself. I knew it would happen. I was pleased because after the first few smacks I _mentally _had started to feel numb; apathetic was a better word to describe the feeling, and soon the torment slowly faded. I looked into the mirror and saw an ugly reflection; I noticed how my smile was too wide—the dead eyes, and an emotion I wasn't completely able to decipher. I couldn't be sure if what I witnessed in my eyes had even been an emotion at all.

I stared. I could now clearly see the girl in the mirror. Her porcelain cheeks were red and tear-stained with the usual thick make-up she wore every day. Her short hair tousled, her plump lips chapped—but she had this rudimentary smirk gracing her lips. She looked hauntingly beautiful.

Correction—she looked _terrifying_.

Wait…She looks like me.

_Is that me?_

If it is, why do I look so scary? _What is this?_

Sasuke had always told me I was gorgeous. Ino, Karin, Hinata and Tenten complimented on my features—gushing on how much they adored my eyes. _Funny how they look so lifeless now_, I scoffed. I was a _far _fucking cry from pretty, let alone gorgeous. Though of course I had always feigned a blush toward their compliments, because I knew—painfully so, that I was not gorgeous. Nor pretty. Oh no, this Sakura now, with her smile just a smidge too wide, and her _deaddeaddead_ eyes, are as just ugly as her heart. I wondered, if they were to see me the way I am now, what their reactions would be.

I smiled to myself. It would be fascinating—thrilling—and I could hardly wait, but I had to be patient. My face grew stern as I closed my eyes. As they flickered open once more, glossy emerald whirlpools framed by long, clumped lashes stared back at me. Like a mantra, I began chanting to myself.

"I _am_ okay. _I _am happy. I am_ okay_. I am _happy_. _I _am ."

I laughed so hard that tears came once more. So hard that whatever I had been feeling before dissipated— evaporated like water. Goodbye and good riddance; I knew everything would be alright now. I took a quick glance at my wristwatch. It was only four-thirty and I had a few more hours to myself before meeting the Akatsuki's leader. It had been months since I transferred from Suna High, months since I had distanced myself from Gaara, and shamefully so, I had been losing my touch ever since.

I remembered my encounter with Gaara from earlier and felt a sense of longing. I missed the harshness—the exchange of sexual brutality between us. Sure, Sasuke was good in bed and all. He was loyal, romantic, and considerate of my feelings. He was every girl's dream—

But he wasn't what I _needed_.

Sighing, I strolled to my bedroom and pulled my phone out, mulling over the numerous missed calls from Sasuke. Rolling my eyes, I skimmed my contacts, lips twitching upward with excitement.

It was a fair statement to say I took pleasure in abuse—it was easily one of my most safeguarded secrets. I loved the sensation and knew just who to call to "get my fix". I knew he wouldn't—couldn't reject me. Perhaps I knew him too well.

The man answered my call with a simple "_Haruno_".

…I grinned with delight.

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Little did she know, when she tossed her notebook to the bed earlier, it had flipped to a page toward the back, revealing a foreign scrawl she had yet to notice.

_Self-annihilation is a slow kill.  
-Gaara_

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"_Hey it's Sakura! Right now, I'm either studying or studying so leave a message!" _

—Beep.

Sasuke sighed. He ended the call and slid the phone back into his pocket. Turning to Naruto, he shook his head.

"Sakura-chan's a no go?"

Sasuke narrowed his eyes and sighed once more. Exasperated, he ran his fingers through his choppy black locks, averting his gaze from the blonde at his side to the mysterious redhead who had been leaning against the tree trunk nearby—eyes closed, arms folded. Sasuke squinted further and the redhead snapped his eyes open, jade orbs staring pointedly back at him. There was something fishy about the newcomer; he could _feel_ it. It irritated Sasuke to no end that couldn't get a solid read on Gaara. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt threatened by the quiet stranger, and he hated every bit of it. It set his blood to boil to be kept in the dark.

Call him crazy, but... He could almost sense the same vibe coming from Sakura, his very own girlfriend. Sasuke was entranced by her beauty, much like several others when she had first transferred to their school. She was gorgeous; what with the exotic pink hair that cascaded down her back and the like. He was a sucker for girls with long legs, and it seemed that Sakura had it all. Her features were soft, yet fierce. At first he had dismissed her. Sure, she was definitely a sight for sore eyes, but she was none of his business so he kept the knowledge to himself. Of course, this had gone just fine right up until Naruto, with his Jesus-like-complex, decided to befriend her. Just like that, she had become a part of their little 'group'.

Sasuke couldn't ignore her anymore as they started talking, and she soon became the colors to his monochrome life, clutching his heart with her bare hands. If he were the emotional type, he would have described her as an angel; one of whom taught him compassion for the many concepts he had long since shunned out. She had turned him to mush, but since Sasuke was _not_ an emotional person, he voiced none of these notions.

He _did_ see signs to worry, however.

He didn't quite remember when he started to become suspicious of her. Maybe it was when she started to bounce questions back at him and away from herself. She was mysterious, he first reasoned, but felt he had crushed that thought when Naruto pointed out that skepticism was perhaps one of his traits. Sasuke felt guilty for doubting his own girlfriend, but couldn't help it; it was in his nature, after all. He often wondered if this relationship could be considered 'normal'. Since Sasuke never actually had a "healthy relationship" before, he couldn't tell the difference.

He'd heard a saying somewhere long ago. _'You are what you attract'._

Both of his parents had been gone for quite some time. He only had an uncle and a brother supporting his expenses. Not that he'd have to worry, of course; he was very well-off as the second heir to the Uchiha Corporation. As goes the saying, most of his previous lovers were either emotionally charged or apathetic; similar traits that they shared, but unlike Sakura or the redhead, he could read them and read them well. He had never felt threatened by his exes.

But Sakura...

She was a little off somewhere.

He was sure—positive, that Sakura was indeed, peculiar at the least. Sasuke had yet to figure her out. Whenever they were on a date or hanging out with their circle of friends, her phone would always be ringing and she would dash off early, explaining the situation to him the following day. What made him wary were the lack of flaws in her tell-tale stories. They were always explained in detail, with feigned worry and an apologetic smile to boot. However, he'd been led to believe her excuses were golden; they'd not fought once in the four months they've dated.

He would ask her about it, but she would always give him the same answer: She was almost constantly busy with her studies. At first he had been proud of her for wanting to achieve such high marks, but as days went by he came to believe it as an excuse to distance herself from him. He sometimes wondered if she were even happy with him at all. All her reactions, flaws, and explanations were _oh-so-perfect_ that Sasuke, forever a cynic, knew there _had _to be a catch.

After all, nothing ever came easily for Sasuke Uchiha.

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"It's alright, Sasuke. You know Sakura. She's a very busy girl."

Gaara could hardly restrain himself from scoffing. '_Busy girl_,' he thought to himself, narrowing his eyes. '_Busy girl _my _ass.' _He watched as Uchiha turned around to look at him once more. The corners of his lips twitched with amusement as he witnessed the cautious glance from the black-haired man. Gaara knew Uchiha couldn't touch him, so he saw no reason to worry.

His eyes shifted to the newcomer, the one that Naruto introduced him to during lunch. Nara Shikamaru was his name. He didn't feel threatened; Nara wouldn't do anything if he knew either—but Gaara _didn't_ want him to know.

The redhead observed the group in secrecy.

He knew now why Sakura chose to be friends with them. They were a fun bunch—not that Gaara would admit it aloud, of course. Yes, they were a fun bunch, and he knew whole-heartedly that Sakura could only be pleased with her choice—they seemed to trust her easily. Not that he could particularly blame them. This Sakura was very different from the Sakura he knew, or at least thought he knew, when she went to Suna High. Gaara was well-aware of her intentions; he knew Sakura was simply playing charades with the lot of them, though he would no doubt keep mum on her behalf.

In all honesty, he would rather sit back and _enjoy_ the ride.

Gaara... Was a selfish man. He was jealous of Uchiha; jealous because the bastard got to be with the kind-hearted Sakura, even though he knew she was _fake _and _disingenuous_. Nevertheless, he still got to embrace that "version" of her. In fact, it seemed that the group in general got along pretty well with this Sakura, and Gaara thought he must have been pretty fucked up to be jealous over something so stupid and unhealthy.

Not that he was surprised.

Gaara had always been a little fucked in the head before Sakura had forcibly entered his life. He didn't understand why he had allowed Sakura to toy with him like he was her plaything—like he'd actually belong to her when he truthfully loathed her with all his heart. He couldn't even remotely describe the amount of hate he had for her; words simply weren't strong enough. Not that Gaara was a man of words in the first place. He had long held the belief that actions made a bolder statement, and right now, Gaara felt like smashing the rosette's face against the wall.

As luck would have it, the "rosette" in question was calling. A slight sense of confusion overwhelmed him as his heart leapt momentarily. Quickly, he excused himself from the group, ignoring the protests, the scrutinizing stare from Uchiha and Nara—though Sasuke had been more blatant about it, and walked slowly, careful not to draw any further attention to himself. Now assured that he was both out of sight and hearing range, he answered the call.

"Haruno."

He inwardly cursed when his voice came out strained.

"_Oh, _Gaa_rrrrrrr_a_._"

Although he couldn't see her, the redhead could almost _hear_ the smirk on her face; she well knew the weight of her words on him. Especially when she rolled her tongue as she spoke his name... It was very, _very_ sensual and she knew it.

Still, he wouldn't go down so easily.

"What do you want, _Haruno_?"

"_Oh, Gaara—don't be like that, honey._" He heard her giggle chillingly over the phone. "_I need... Your help. With certain things._"

Gaara frowned.

Since when did Sakura—_this _Sakura, ever need help? Especially _his_ help? What could he—Hold it. Garra swallowed the words on his tongue and bit the inside of his cheek. Was she hinting at what he _thought_ she was hinting at? He didn't want to come off as desperate—he had far too much pride for that, and so recollected himself, maintaining a cool air about him.

"Tch, and you assumed that I'd help you because—?"

Another giggle was heard, and chills down his spine accompanied the sneer on his face. He would _not_ back off. _Fuck that._ Why should he, when Sakura had revealed yet another personality of hers?

"_Gaara, darling, it's fine with me if you don't want to... I'll just call _Uchiha_ to come right over—_"

Before she could finish her sentence, the redhead furiously cut her off. "—_I'll come_," he hissed harshly, which earned him another giggle. "I'll…Come," he repeated, tone softer than before.

"_I know you will... Key's under the doormat, and I'll text you my address. I'll be waiting, _darling_._"

He heard a beep then, signaling that she had hung up, quickly followed by another from the incoming text. Gaara pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a frustrated groan. Angrily and impulsively, he kicked a blue trashcan near him, growling with discontent.

'Just what the fuck am I doing,' he questioned, running his fingers through his messy red locks. Before he made the decision to transfer to her school, he'd told himself numerous times that he would _not_ come to her head on, that he would_ not_ be the one to find her. Ideally, it was supposed to be the other way round. _Ideally_, she was supposed to be the one crawling back to _him_. She was supposed to beg him, and he would reject her, and he would beat the living shit out of her—he'd grip her shoulders until her collarbone snapped and scream, 'What the fuck is wrong with you!' He was supposed to throw her off, to make her anxious of his sudden appearance and—_just what the fuck was he doing? _

Gaara embraced his tantrum by kicking the trashcan once more, red flashing brightly before his eyes. He was angry at the world, angry at himself—but most of all, he was angry at Sakura, that… _Fucking pink-haired bitch_ for conflicting his feelings. He hated not being in control of his life and despised being played with. He reviled himself for allowing that fucking bitch to be in control of him in the first place. He knew she didn't give a shit about him—Sakura never cared about anything or anyone except herself—and it swiftly shifted his mood from simply angry to fuming. The fact that he was feeling so much turmoil over a girl who couldn't give a fuck less about him grated on the last shreds of his sanity and patience.

He wished the feeling were mutual.

Despite knowing that he was going to regret it afterwards, Gaara put on his helmet and walked toward the school parking lot. He hopped on his black motorbike; a sleek, shiny one that Temari had bought him for his sixteenth birthday and took out his phone, rereading the text that Sakura had sent him before sliding it back into his pocket. He put the keys into the ignition and started the engine, riding off in the direction of her house before second thoughts consumed him further.

Sakura had told him it was a fifteen minute drive, though he'd gotten there in ten. The fact that he seemed eager pissed him off, too. He parked in her driveway and hopped off the bike, tucking his helmet and keys beneath his arm. Approaching the front porch of her house, as promised, the keys were under the doormat. He swiped them off the floor and inspected them closely. There were four keys in total; each with a label on it. There were two matching pairs. One was labeled 'front door,' the other 'Sakura's room.'

He cocked an eyebrow when he noticed the matching keys were both labeled with his name.

Unlocking the door, Gaara stepped inside cautiously, careful to close and lock it behind him. He took in the sight of her house, mentally capturing everything like a video camera. The house was modern and fairly large—not that Gaara had expected any less. He didn't know much about Sakura's current situation, only that she had been adopted by a head doctor, so money was a given. The walls were painted a rich cream color, adorned with multiple black dots. There were a few paintings he admired as well; they had been done by an artist he recognized and made a stark contrast to the wall design. Before he could venture out further, his phone buzzed.

**Stop being nosy. Get up the stairs, turn to your right. My door is black in color. There's only two doors, try not to miss it~**

Gaara flared his nostrils, miffed at the sarcasm, but followed orders as told. There were times that Gaara felt like slamming his head against the wall, and this was one of those times. Just what the fuck was he doing, indeed; his emotions and actions were in a constant state of conflict. He hated that woman with a fiery, burning passion, but had yet to decipher why he'd followed her here to Konohagakure. Hell, he was more than a hundred miles away from his hometown. He had yet to figure out why he approached her first, despite telling himself otherwise. He knew he was a damn fool for coming this far, yet here he was—not just in her house—but rather _her territory_.

Ignoring the eerie feeling that crept about his conscious, he went up the stairs and turned right, stopping before the black wooden door. He took the key that had 'Sakura's room' labeled on it and unlocked the knob, twisting it slowly as a 'tick' made its way to his ears. He counted the seconds, inwardly wondering why he was stalling. He barely made it to three before the door was yanked opened from the inside. There stood Sakura in all her naked glory.

He stared.

She smirked.

He continued staring at her, taken aback at the "gesture" when she clutched the hem of his shirt, violently pulling him into the room. Gaara quickly gathered what was about to occur on as he had been forcefully thrown on the bed. A soft _click!_ from a distance sealed his fate. He looked up to the source of his problems and swallowed hard, duly noting the way her eyes lingered on him, hungry and relentless. The whip and collar she held told him she was in a mood for rough foreplay—not that it was much of an issue. The thought enthralled him, although when it came to Sakura, he had no choice but to play the submissive one.

It's always the same, he realized. It wasn't that he had grown bored of it—of her, he couldn't be bored of her even if he wanted to. The familiar emotions swarming beneath those captivating emerald orbs that he loathed to look at, the cruel smirk that he found so sultry, the way she moved her hips that made herself ever more sinuous—it disgusted him as much as it intrigued him. Looking at her unsheathed skin, he caught a glimpse at the familiar scars he'd planted on her, as well as some that she, or someone else, may have inflicted on her. He knew by now not to question it; she never answered any of his questions.

Gaara watched as she came to him, a seductive smile plastered on her face as she crawled onto the bed, making her way to him. Mesmerized by her movements, he observed in silence as she rested her fingers on his stomach, trailing up his chest, her lips quirking with amusement as he flinched at her touch. As her features went aglow with excitement, a switch went off in his head, and he instantly snapped out of his trance.

Earlier, he had been bitching about slamming Haruno's head against the wall and where had that gotten him? He was allowing himself to be shaken by her very touch. It was awfully tempting; a punch to the face because—_just what the fuck am I doing?_ It seemed that was the only question going through his mind because the disbelief that he'd permitted this pink-haired bitch to take control of his emotions again left his stomach a raging pit of searing fury.

In one swift movement, he switched their positions. The hell he'd make himself her "bottom bitch" this time around.

Even though he knew how Sakura was, he was a little annoyed that she didn't even bat an eyelash at his sudden movement. Instead she merely smirked, eyes bright with mischievous intent.

"Finally, darling. I thought you'd lost your touch."

Before he could reply, Gaara felt a harsh tug on his hair before her lips were smashed furiously against his. He allowed his mouth to open slightly, giving her slight access to his mouth before sinking his teeth into her bottom lip. She yanked herself away from him, him mocking her all the while with a smirk of his own as a trail of blood dripped at the corner of mouth. Instead of recoiling, as one would expect, she licked it instead; his eyes followed her tongue as it rolled across her bottom lip, sucking slightly before letting it go with an audible 'pop'.

"You're such a teasing slut, Haruno."

Unlike the other girls he'd bedded, Sakura was the only one who took pride in being called a slut, at least in bed. She had never screamed at him or attempted to punch him for it. Instead, she would smile slyly, teasing him all more. That was what he hated the most about her. He couldn't get a rise out of her—everything he did seemed so fucking amusing to her, frustrating him to no end.

"You wouldn't want it any other way would you, _honey_."

He felt her struggling beneath him and the position was reversed once more. He'd scarcely felt the tug on his hair again before she slammed his head against the wooden bed frame, the impact creating black splotches in his field of vision.

'_Hah. Nice try, bitch.'_

Retaliating, the crimson-haired man opened his mouth and pierced his teeth into her skin once more, dragging them along the pale canvas as she hissed in pain. He felt liquid trickle around his mouth and lapped it up, looking up her new gash with utter satisfaction.

Sakura's face, a mixture of pleasure and pain—brought light as why he'd come crawling back. The reason why he chased her all the way to Konohagakure, and why he would always go further if he had to—that woman—that pink-haired bitch was so fucking _addicting_—and she was his everything. He loved the way she wormed beneath his skin and how she would always make him search for her, desperate for her touch.

He was in for the catch, he was in for the sex—he was in, as long as he held a significance role in her life. If he were a little more honest with himself, Gaara didn't mind being her bitch. He didn't mind it one bit. Then again, that wasn't information she needed to know; if he were more honest with himself, he would admit that she probably knew that anyway.

"You like that, you worthless cunt?"

Before he could comprehend what was happening, another tug came and a thud resonated once more—this time, his head throbbed to the point where he felt it would burst at the seams. He blinked—once, twice—before a buckling sound registered. He felt a tension at his neck and felt around, expecting to feel skin. Instead, he felt spikes and leather.

'_Goddammit.'_

Sakura had managed to put a collar on him…Again. He attempted to remove it in vain; a fingernail catching on what he guessed was a keyhole. Furiously, he glared at the culprit, who was rolling the desired object between her fingers. He reached to snatch it, but she was faster, gripping the key and shoving it in her vagina. She smiled maliciously as her face contorted with mirth.

Now crouching on the edge on her bed with Gaara at the opposite end, the two of them stared intently at one another. She was smirking and he was glaring, but only silence was exchanged between them.

Slowly, she scooted back and he pounced.


End file.
